Hey you there, with all that mascara around
those beautiful blues – you must be exhausted
after all the running and dancing you’ve been
doing for the past few months. Why don’t you take
a vacation? Come down to Florida. We’ll
have a joint subcommittee meeting in the
living room of my one bedroom apartment,
then we can listen to old records while I
give you a foot massage. You’ve seen Pulp Fiction,
right? After that, I don’t know. What do you want
to do? Where do you want to go? I’m down, girl.
Let’s go there. Let’s do it. As long as it’s cheap.
I’m kind of working on a budget, here. So
it goes, I suppose. Leopards can’t change their spots.
They can, however, choose their company. Right?
Right. Of course. Have I told you sexy you
are? Would you like me to quote you a sonnet
or lick every inch of your body? I
told you, I’m down for whatever. Beach? River?
Bedroom? Hell, I’ll go to church for you … maybe.
I don’t know, but we can talk about it. We
can talk about anything you’d like. You’re smart,
right? Duh. Just listen to the things you say. I’ve
never thought of things that way. And the way you
say them? My God, you sing. I could listen to
you for hours on end … you and Soundgarden.
Chris Cornell, right? Isn’t he great? Ever seen
the movie Singles? It has Pearl Jam in it.
What about Mother Love Bone? Do you know them?
Have you heard the song “Man of Golden Words”? Does
it remind you of “One More Cup of Coffee”
by Bob Dylan and Emmy Lou Harris? Me
too. Isn’t that a coincidence? Coffee?
Seattle? All that’s missing is a little
Nirvana. Alice in Chains, too. Heroin…
man, what a bummer. It’s killed so many good…